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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29010402">Lust</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/'>Anonymous</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Locked Tomb Trilogy | Gideon the Ninth Series - Tamsyn Muir</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/F</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 10:22:31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>567</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29010402</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>I hate you.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Gideon Nav/Harrowhark Nonagesimus</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>64</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Anonymous, TLT Kink Meme</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Lust</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>to avoid diskhorse, assume these characters are aged up.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>I hate you.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I </span>
  <em>
    <span>hate </span>
  </em>
  <span>you.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>IhateyouIhateyouIhateyouI-</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Am I declaring? Am I proclaiming? Am I trying to convince myself or am I trying to convince you?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You already know. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When I kiss up your leg, biting until the vessels burst into indigo blooms across taut brown thighs, you know I hate you. When bone fingers dig into wrists and you’re jerking and thrusting, chapped lips refusing to beg even though you know I won’t let you come, you know I hate you. You know.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And I know.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So why can’t I stop saying it?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lust is one thing, lust I can deal with. Lust is watching you train for hours and feeling the sweat on your abs, digging my nails into the lines of your torso, my eyes enraptured by the flex of your arm as the heel of your palm hits my clit over and over again. Lust is your mouth wrapped around my nipple, teeth scraping and tugging, my fists curled in your dumb red hair. Lust is the way I moan into an empty room, make sounds I won’t make around you, my hips writhing against my hand as I imagine how else you could fuck me.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In the library. The landing site. The planter fields. Every unoccupied room in the castle. Every position in your stupid books. Do you imagine me in one of those outfits? Strips of silk around my chest, between my lips; you rip them off - your hands bound - lapping with muffled sighs and whimpers as I ride your face. My breath caught in my throat, head thrown back, the warring of my thoughts silent. Do you imagine it? Is this what you think of when you touch yourself too?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lust is a problem, yes. How am I supposed to </span>
  <em>
    <span>pray the tomb is shut forever </span>
  </em>
  <span>when I’m clenching around the nothing where your fingers should be, </span>
  <em>
    <span>pray the rock is never rolled away </span>
  </em>
  <span>when I’m thinking of your head between my legs, my back arched against the pew. But it’s a problem I can deal with - </span>
  <em>
    <span>am </span>
  </em>
  <span>dealing with.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If only lust was it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Did you know there’s a particular look you get in your eyes when you’re thinking of us? Did you know I noticed? Did you know that when you smile, all teeth and thin lips, I want to kiss you - and not the way I do after my mouth’s been on your cunt, when I want to coat your tongue with the taste of you but - </span>
  <em>
    <span>really </span>
  </em>
  <span>kiss you? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The dip of your clavicles haunts my theorems. The swing of your sword my waking thought.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I pray that which is buried remains buried, insensate. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I pray I forget the sight of phalanges gripping carpi, unhesitatingly given.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I pray I don’t realise your plots to abscond grow less and less frequent.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I pray the jut of your jaw becomes indistinguishable from others.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I pray I stop seeking red in every room I enter.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I pray to sleep without seeing your face, your body, your hands.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I pray I never feel the pulse of your orgasm ever again.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Your raspy groans a sanctifying hymn.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Your hallowed kiss on my Judas skin.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I pray for me, for my heart, for it is weak. Weak against you.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>If lust is all there was, Griddle, I would gladly lie upon the altar and press your body against mine.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>I hate you.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
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